The house is still very quiet, even my ‘mews’ is too bewildered at my early rustling around to consider begging for those little morsels of kitty crack, known as ‘treats.’
Peering through the window to the world, there are no glowing eyes of the usual vehicular madness that usually traverse the mazes of cement around my domicile. Much like half-finished portraits of presidents to other notorieties, many of my characters are frozen in time awaiting some form of life from their creator.
Steam rises from the cup of elixir warming my digits as I stand in my miniature oasis among the rest of the city dwellers who are still capturing what their imaginary worlds have to offer. An occasional raptor of the skies, still perched in the canopy overhead either tells me good morning or perhaps is telling me to come closer, so it too can bless me or perhaps target my cup full of caffeine.
A week of this solitude you would think my characters would be solving the world’s problems or perhaps fighting the aliens in some undiscovered parts of the galaxy.
The unknowns of the world lie hidden deep in the microscopic world around us. Waiting to attack with surgical precision much like miniature IED’s, they are carried by almost anything that moves or they simply lie in wait, much like that tic in the forest.
The usual activities we enjoy are now suspect. Should I? Could I? Is it wise to?
All the while our usual haunts are suffering by our trepidations or perhaps ‘suggested activities’ while we wait for the all-clear. The world waits and watches but nobody is at the helm. The taxman or bill collector is blind to the uncertainties of the world, there is a balance sheet and the bottom line is the final stop, for those that were spared this time.
Stories of voices now silenced, permeate the imaginations of most, and panic the hell out of the spirits of many.
We have faced this before.
We no longer sing Ring around the Rosie or fill their pockets with posies. Ashes, not so much, but the falling down will certainly apply in some parts of the world, where deep trenches are carved into the earth to hold the forms of the many, who will now reside in photos, memories, and the hearts of those left behind.
Echoes from sphincters emanating from lofty ivory barbicans, rail at those who seek to hold back the crimson tide, pointing their bent digits at their efforts. It is they who do the devils bidding, herding the masses into those resting places while awaiting the sneak attack of some invisible assailant. They cause us to mock those trying to help us, in an effort to destroy what is left of the tapestry of humanity.
There is a higher power in control but, the lambs must look up from the next blade of grass while ignoring Satan’s henchmen on the rubicund State-Run propaganda Network. The clueless threadbare statues uttering lies and innuendo created by the puppet masters become reverberations of the hypnotists.
The noise disappears with the touch of a button as my furry comfort creature hops in my lap taking her rightful place just below the keyboard. The familiar vibrations comfort my soul as another sip of coffee slowly causes the blues to drift away.
The world is out there waiting for your tickling of the letters to form words, phrases, and uplifting sentiment while shunning the devil, not allowing him a win over you.
This epistle of sorts culminates the days and nights which preceded today. There is a glow in the east and yes, it is light from that yonder window and no, it is not Juliet or Romeo. Today marks the beginning of another day in which to leave my indelible mark on the hearts of many. I am here.
Much Love -TW